I’ll find a title later…

Using the world from my first book FREAK, Bryan Wolford (of Life of Bryan and Drunken Zombie) and I have begun to write other stories with new characters.

Here’s my first. Bryan’s first is HERE.

 

I should have done more.  I should have done so much more…

Waking up  for the sixth time on his rack in the makeshift barracks deep inside of what used to be a local bottling plant, Private Louis Greene realized sleep wasn’t going to stick. Not tonight anyway.  “I’ve got to relax. Just shake it off and relax.” He said, running his hands through his shorn hair.

Three days ago, the transfer papers came in through his Staff Sergeant’s desk that he and his unit were being immediately deployed to Avery Creek; Ground Zero for the fatal disease designated as X8J-1 that was responsible for having wiped out over 9500 people in a little under a month. 

Martial law was declared throughout the city when the first National Guard units rolled in almost 4 weeks prior and Avery Creek was quarantined off from the rest of the world.  All roads leading out of Avery Creek were barricaded off including the bridge on the outskirts of town, which was detonated. No one without proper clearance –military personnel included– was allowed to leave the area under any circumstances. Louis’ sergeant told the men that, not only was lethal force expected when coming across anyone trying to make their way out of the city, it was also encouraged.

Containment was not the first priority of Private Greene’s division. They had been called in as added enforcement for the distribution of rations and supplies to the survivors of the city. It was no secret that the surviving hordes still trapped within the city had been stealing, looting and causing endless chaos and death as they fought to live in this city of the dead. Section headquarters—makeshift hospitals, munitions and rationing stations– were being overrun daily. They were brought in to redouble the defenses against the anarchy.

Stories had been passed amongst the frightened, newly arrived soldiers by those that had already experienced it. Unforgettable tales of how these people had become savages, beating and killing those around them for food or water. Unbelievable as it might have seemed, that much had been expected. But the rumors that were beginning to spread had another horrifying element to them. Stories of supernatural things happening.  

One of these particular stories involved levitating people. These stories might very well have been fueled by the madness of the scene, but they were becoming more frequent according to Jared, the man on the top rack of Louis’ bunk.

Jared said he had a buddy on the other side of the city that, while on patrol, came across someone that supposedly picked a small car up over their head and chucked it at him.

“He said the guy picked it up as easily as he would have were it a napkin.”  Jared took a drag off his cigarette, a thousand yard stare on his face, as he recalled the details. If this story is bullshit, Louis thought, he’s clearly not the one that started it.

Despite all the fantastical stories, true or imagined, the reality was that there was a chance he wasn’t coming away from this city. So many had already died, or were in the process of dying as he laid there on his cot. Sure, he was going to be fully suited in biochemical gear –word on the street being that it was the latest and greatest in protection of airborne weaponry and otherwise—still the odds, he had determined, were soundly against him.

I should have hugged Drea more. He thought about his daughter as he stared up at the springs of the bed frame above him. At least once more. I should have made sure she knew.

Louis checked his watch; he was due up in a little under an hour. Seeing as how he would have first go at the showers, he decided to stow the sleeping attempts and steel himself for whatever was waiting for him outside on the streets.

 

Two hours later, Louis was finished with his briefing and was fully fit into his ‘top of the line’ suit –the wrists and ankles of which were reinforced with duct tape– the gas mask resting on his forehead so that he could still see until he breached the outer corridors of the facility.

Australia. If I get out of here, I’m taking leave. Me and Drea are going to take a two week trip to Australia. Wherever she wants to go. It doesn’t matter.

Louis chambered the first round into his sidearm and replaced it in its holster.  He did the same for the M16 carbine on his lap. Through the glass lenses of his mask, he looked across the back of the cargo truck to what could have been a mirror image of himself except the soldier –Louis thought his name was Trent– was nervously tapping his foot. The man next to Trent was folded over in his seat, the necklace of a medallion falling out of his clutched fists that were pressed into his forehead.   

Louis took a deep breath in and out. He wasn’t a religious man. He never had been. Under the circumstances, however, he thought maybe it was worth a shot. He closed his eyes in an attempt at reverence and quietly whispered. “God, if you’re up there. Help.”

Had he wanted to say more, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity as the truck came to an abrupt stop. All twenty-five men around Louis were sitting quietly, looking at each other frantically, the same question on their mind as his; what went wrong? It was too soon to have arrived at their final destination and everyone knew it.

The sound of automatic gunfire broke the momentary silence and the Sergeant began to bark his orders.

“Everyone out! We’re taking fire! Move it! Double time gents!” The Sergeant was the first out of the truck, providing cover fire. “Find cover where you can! When you have the shot, take it!”

Louis followed the three men in front of him. Two split off left while Louis and the other took cover behind a Grand Am. The Sergeant fell in behind Louis.

“Tom, do you see anything?” The sergeant asked the other man, trying to be heard through the masks.

“They’re behind the truck! I’ve got no shot!” Tom replied.

“We’ve got to give the others a chance to get out! We’re getting our asses across the street and see if we can’t get a visual! On three!”

The Sergeant gave the count off and the three of them scrambled from behind the car and took cover behind a set of brick apartment steps. Louis crouched as low as he could, trying to fight off what felt like a panic attack. He brought his gun up to see what he could through the scope.

“I got ‘em, sir! Twelve yards up!” Louis shouted. “Two men. Caucasian. Only one of them is armed.”

“You got a shot?”

“I think I can get it.”

“Either you can or you can’t, Private! Which is it?” The Sergeant screamed.

“I’ve got the guy with the gun, Sir!” Louis adjusted the butt of the gun against his shoulder.

“Louis, you take primary!” Tom said, taking aim at the other man. “I’ve got his pal!”

“Take it!” Louis’ bullet took off the scalp of the armed man, who fell backwards onto the pavement. His partner had only a moment to react before Tom’s bullet chewed into his ribcage.

“Clear!” Tom said, bringing the gun to his side.

“Move up!” The Sergeant shouted, waving all the men to follow.

As the soldiers started to move ahead with the Sergeant in the lead, there came an animal’s roar so loud and deep that Louis felt it in his chest.  Sergeant held up his fist for them to stand fast. There was the sound of an explosion and another roar, only closer this time.

The Sergeant moved up to crouch next to the front fender of the cargo truck. Having a look around, he turned back. “Sweep forward!” As soon as the Sergeant stepped out from behind the cover of the truck a giant fell from the sky and landed before him.

Standing at over 7 and a half feet, four hundred pounds and composed mostly of muscle, the hulking African-American –who Louis realized had small horns sprouting out from the temples of his bald head— grabbed the Sergeant by the throat and effortlessly hurled him headlong into the brick building, shattering his neck.

“Open fire!” Louis ordered, and all twenty-five men turned their guns on the beast. The animal let out another terrifying roar and lunged behind the cargo truck. Louis ordered the men to take cover as the front axle of the truck started to rise off the ground.

Louis and two others dove behind another brick staircase, this time down into a basement entrance, as the cargo truck collided with the side of the building.  There wasn’t an explosion, but the beast let out another bellow as Louis noticed the rush of liquid that fell down the steps and began pooling at his feet.

“Gasoline.” He said, pointing it out to the others. “We can’t stay here.” Someone out in the street pleaded for their life before they cried out in pain for the last time.

“I don’t like the alternative.” One of them replied.

“We’ve got to do something. Either that thing is going to rip us apart limb from limb or we’re going to burn alive. Now I don’t know about you, but that’s hardly the way I want to go out.” Louis moved up the stairs to get a look and better assess the situation.

“Sir!” The other said, trying to get Louis’ attention.

“Don’t call me that. I’m an E2, same as you.”

“Your suit, sir.”

Louis stopped in place. Paralyzed with fear, he barely managed to ask, “What about it?”

“The left elbow, sir. It’s ripped wide open.”

Louis let his gun fall loose and started to grasp at his elbow. He could see that the outer layer had been split.  He frantically felt to see if the inner layer had been breached. Squeezing it, he felt his thermal undershirt. The virus was in.

He fell back against the wall. In some strange way he was relieved. At least now, he didn’t have to be anxious about dying. He had no doubts that he was a dead man now.  All his muscles relaxed for the first time since he got the orders he was coming. “I should have done more.” He muttered.

“What’s that?”

“With this life. My life.”

“What are you talking about, sir?”

“Stop calling me that. My name is Louis. My name is Louis.”

I should have done so much more. He thought. But there was no longer time. He was out. No time for anything anymore. No moment of silence. No stages of grief. He gathered his thoughts, and collected himself as best he could. He resigned himself to his death.

“What do you need us to do, Louis?”

“I need you to run. Like hell. Like all holy hell, I want you to run. Fall back. Regroup. Survive.” He said, pulling the clip from his gun to take stock of his ammo. “This should be enough.” He snapped the cartridge back in place.

“I’ll buy you as much time as I can.” Another roar and helpless screaming sounded from the street. “Run like holy hell. On three.”

Louis gave the count and rushed out, gun on fire, taking aim at the behemoth. “CLEAR OUT! MOVE!” He screamed frantically, hoping like hell all of them heard him.

The giant held out his hand pushing aside the bullets as if swatting at flies. Louis pushed forward, running full on toward him. When he got within arms reach, the monster ripped the machine gun from his hands and threw it behind him. With the adrenaline coursing through him, Louis swung his fists wildly at him. But he was no match for the animal, who grabbed his suit with the right hand and raised him over his head. Louis watched in as the left hand wrapped over his face, fingertips squeezing at his skull.

He had time for one last thought as the pressure became too much and he began to black out.

I love you. I love you my sweet Drea, good-bye.